


The Living Doll (Jason the Toymaker X Reader)

by Chains_and_Pasta



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Food, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jason's dolls can talk, Kidnapping, Snakes, Stuffed Toys, This entire fic is just me explaining how Jason is a perfect metaphor for abusive and toxic people, girls supporting girls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-01-22 15:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21304670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chains_and_Pasta/pseuds/Chains_and_Pasta
Summary: You've been kidnapped by a red-haired stranger, who has decided to spare your life in exchange for friendship. Will you escape before he changes his mind, or will you become his newest creation?
Relationships: Jason the Toymaker x Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	1. The Stranger

With a gasp, you woke up, throwing the covers off of you and standing. Immediately a wave of nausea hit you and you fell back into a sitting position on your bed, clutching your skull and letting out a whimper.

Where were you?

The small room seemed filled to the brim with peculiar objects. Clockwork toys and stuffed dolls lined the walls, sitting perfectly poised on shelves,desks, and the floors. You looked back down at the bed you were sitting on. How did you get here, in this bed, tucked underneath the green and blue checkered covers, without noticing? Your head was still screeching in pain, begging you to lay back down and fall asleep again.

You heard a soft click, and you head snapped up, sending another wave of pain through it, and looked towards the door. It opened silently, and a man stepped through.

"Hello, love. Are you alright?" He asked, a soft, worried smile on his lips. Your eyes widened in realization, memories flooding back like a dam breaking.

＊＊＊

Your room was probably the messiest it had ever been. Boxes were stacked on top of each other, each one carrying a different label on it. Clothes, school supplies, decorations, toys. You were heading off to college soon, and fitting your entire room into boxes was harder than expected.

Looking into your closet, you threw stuff onto the floor and into boxes, depending on where it was to end up.

"Trash, college, attic, attic, college..." you muttered to yourself, grabbing objects and glancing at them before throwing them into their correct pile. You moved a few books to the side, throwing them into the college pile, before laying your eyes on the object that was previously resting behind them. Your expression turned into one of confusion as you grabbed the stuffed animal sitting there. It was a velveteen rabbit, half of it was a beautiful maroon, while the other half was a creamy tan. It was possibly one of the most beautifully crafted toys you've ever seen, and you couldn't remember where you had gotten it, or when. You stared at it for a moment longer, before dropping it into a garbage bag. "Trash." you muttered, and moved onto a pile of jeans.

The week before you moved, the toy reappeared. You had reopened one of the boxes, trying to find one of your favorite shirts, and instead were greeted with the velveteen rabbit. You glared at it, scooping it up and running downstairs to find your mom cutting up carrots.

"Hey, stop putting stuff in the boxes without telling me," you said to her. She looked up, smiling, realizing you had caught onto her little game. "That dress looked great on you, I don't get why you don't want it," she protested. You stopped in confusion. "What? What dress? I was talking about the dumb bunny." You looked at her. "What dress are you talking about?"

Mom looked at you, equally confused. "A bunny?" She asked, and you held up the toy. She shrugged and went back to cutting the vegetable. "I didn't do it. And your father hasn't touched your stuff." You turned and walked out of the kitchen and back to your room.

Later, you cut the rabbit to pieces and threw it out. It creeped you out. You found the dress and did the same thing to it. It was as ugly as you remembered.

The night before you left, you said bye to the last person leaving your "Y/N's going away" party, and headed upstairs, almost immediately went to bed. You were smiling to yourself, thinking of college, and how fun the party had been, when you heard a creaking sound. A cracking sound. The sound of paint chipping and wall falling apart. You sat up in bed to see a blue door replacing the one on your closet, and saw the gold handle turning slowly. You held your breath for a quick second, calling out, "Dad?" Before the door opened.

And there he stood. The man with long red hair and a soft smile. But that wasn't your first impression of him. His green eyes glowed in the dark, and his teeth were bared. He glared at you, his shoulders hunched and angry.

"Hello, love," He snarled. " I saw what you did to my toy." He rose up, standing even taller as he looked down on you. You heard the faint sound of your parents calling your name, still sleepy. Not knowing what was happening. "I'm not happy with you," the man said. Tears formed in your eyes. You scooted backwards, trying to make yourself small. Apparently, your younger self was right. There were monsters hiding in your closet after all.

"Who are you?" You asked the figure, voice cracking. Your throat had a lump in it you couldn't swallow, not letting you scream. Jason looked shocked, and his eyes glowed even brighter. You saw a thin line in his hair turn pink, and then white.

"Excuse me?" He said. "Who am I?" He let out a short laugh that felt filled with barely held-back rage. "Maybe, just maybe, if you hadn't destroyed my only connection with you, you could have figured it out!"

"Y/N?" You heard rapid knocking on your door. Your parents had come to rescue you. If only the door wasn't locked. The red-haired man looked towards the door with a pissed-off gleam still in his eye, before looking back at you and giving you possibly the most bone-chilling smile you could ever dream of.

"Well, I suppose I can't really blame you now, can I?" He said, as your parents began talking quicker, hearing his voice. He stepped toward you, and you tried scooting back again, the wall pressing against you. "I mean," he continued, giving you a look, "you did destroy my gift, but you didn't realize who gave it to you. Maybe I can try and fix your... ungratefulness. " He paused. Your parents were pounding on the door.

"Hm. Or perhaps not." He seemed deep in thought. Your eyes switched between him and the door. Maybe you could make a run for it? Suddenly, he broke into a huge smile. "I guess I'll decide on the way!" He said joyfully, and grabbed your shoulders.

You let out a scream, loud enough to wake the dead, and thrashed against him, trying to escape his grip. His face twisted into another ugly snarl, and yanked you out your bed, dragging you to the blue door. Tears streamed down your face as you fought him, trying everything to get out of his iron grip.

Your bedroom door finally burst open, a large beam of light coming into the room as your parents ran in to see you get dragged through. You reached out to them desperately, before a hand wrapped around your face and pulled you the rest of the way through. You shook your head, clawing at the hand, and moved sharply to the side, hitting a wall and blacking out.

That was the last thing you remember.


	2. Newest Creation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stranger introduces himself

You stared at the man in horror, unable to move. Tears sprung into your eyes as you remembered your parents faces. What was this man going to do to you? He moved into the room, startling you slightly. He smiled at you softly, and pulled up a chair to sit across from you.

"I believe we got off to a bad start yesterday, Y/N." He said in a quiet voice. He seemed to have noticed your fear, looking at you as if you were a porcelain doll, fit to break at any moment. "I think it's in our best interest that I explain to you your current situation."

You clutched the sheets of your bed, listening intently, and looking at him from the corner of your eye. He gave you another pleasant smile, and gestured to the side table. "Before that, though, do you need something for that terrible headache you must have? I'm quite surprised you don't have a concussion from that blow." He let out a small chuckle. "You really should try to be more careful, doll."

I should be more careful? You thought. I was trying to escape him! You looked over to where he had gestured. There was two pills resting on a napkin, with a glass of water beside it. You didn't move, instead glanced at him cautiously.

He stared back at you, amused. "What?" He asked. "You don't trust me? I promise I didn't tamper with it, darling." Him saying that did nothing to appease your fears, and after a moment, he sighed, his voice edged with slight irritation. "Fine, then. Suit yourself. But that headache isn't going to be doing you any favors."

He shifted closer to you, focusing his attentions on you completely. You felt the urge to run again, but forced it down. Not yet.

The man spoke, placing a hand on his chest. " My name is Jason. I'm a toy maker, and I'm incredibly proud of the work I do." He paused. "But you'll see that soon." Before you could ask what he meant, he stood up, brushing off his pants, and offered you his hand. You ignored it, standing up on your own, and stumbling slightly, pain shooting through your skull. Jason placed a hand on your shoulder to steady you, and you froze. He used his hand to gently push you forward and out the door.

Jason gave you no time to react, or to speak, as he lead you through the halls, speaking softly, but his words held vigor and excitement behind them. He was clearly excited to show you around, and your confusion- on top of the splitting headache- made it hard for you to respond.

"Now, I'm sure you can tell, but this is my place, my home, I suppose. It's technically a factory, though I've renovated it, you can barely tell anymore. " He turned a corner sharply, tugging you forward. He refused to let go of your arm. You suspected he knew how strong your urge to run was, but his grip wasn't tight. Just firm.

"There are places here you shouldn't go -you'll learn them soon enough, don't worry- they're a bit dangerous, still under renovations, and all that. Now!"

Jason turned to face you quickly, his face bright. You jumped back slightly, but his hand was still on your shoulder, keeping you in place. "I'm a toymaker, Y/N." He said seriously. You gave him a confused look. Did he think you forgot? He continued. "My work is incredibly important to me, because I can do things no other toymaker can do. " He stepped back from you, finally taking his arm off you to open the set of double doors in front of you. "My living room, " He said, gesturing for you to go inside. You hesitated, considering the chances of escape once again in your mind, before stepping through the door.

It was wonderful.

Toy airplanes soared above your head, chasing each other. Teddy bears waved at you, a few wrapping their arms around your calf in a soft hug. clockwork mice wound circles around you, being chased by patchwork cats. You let out a giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. You couldn't believe this. Had you gone insane? You pet the head of a teddy bear. He seemed real enough for you.

Jason hand fell on your shoulder, and you were jolted back into reality. You spun around, taking a few steps away from him. The feeling of fear came back. He let go of you, and instead sat on the couch. The toys seemed to be drawn to him. He ignored them to focus his attention on you, but you noticed the slight smile that tugged at his lips as the toys surrounded him.

"Y/N," he began, " These toys are alive in nearly every sense. They do not breathe, but they respond to me, they feel, they think. To bring life to something requires a connection with it. To have one destroyed hurts more than you can imagine, especially so with the ones I favor." He eyed you carefully, making sure you understood. You thought about the bunny toy you destroyed.

"I'm sorry," you said. Your voice was hoarse from not speaking all day. Jason's eyes narrowed, still not looking at you. He seemed to be thinking. Eventually, he spoke quietly.

"I usually do not forgive such mistakes." He said. You tensed up nervously. "But, you did not know any better, I suppose. When I came to you, I intended to fix you. - I'm a toymaker, after all. I can fix anything," He added, seeing your confused look. "When I got back, however, I realized I didn't give you a fair chance. Perhaps if you knew that a friend-" Jason pointed earnestly to himself, "-Had given it to you, you would have never destroyed it." His voice began to rise in excitement as he continued.

"So that was it, then! A second chance at life! To get to know each other, to mold you into the perfect doll, without tools interfering! My newest creation," He finished breathlessly, turning towards you. His honey- colored eyes sparkled with excitement.

As he spoke, your confusion and anxiety had built up. But now it was too much for you. You stood up. "What are you talking about?" You shouted. "What do you mean, doll? What were you going to do to me? Are you keeping me here? What about my parents- what about what I want? I'm not your anything!" You finished, tears streaming down your face. You were starting to hyperventilate, the situation you were in finally too much for you to handle.

Jason seemed to stare at you for an eternity. His eyebrows slowly drew together, and his hands tightened into fists. He suddenly stood and walked out, slamming the door behind him, the walls shaking from the force. You stood there, frozen for a second. What just happened? Your lower lip trembled slightly, out of fear. The thought you had earlier resurfaced, what was he going to do to you? Then you blinked, a realization came.

You ran.

Jason couldn't keep you here if he couldn't find you.


	3. Twisting and Turning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe you shouldn't have ran away

You peeked around the corner of the hallway. Seeing it empty, you continued down it. You were frantic, barely able to keep your head. This factory was like a maze, and you had no idea where you were heading. Multiple times you wondered if there even was some sort of exit. You forced those thoughts away, however. They weren't helpful.

After going down two more halls, you came across a door, and took your chances, grabbing the handle and shoving it open, closing it carefully behind you. The room was not as small as the bedroom you had woken up in, and you honestly weren't sure what this place was for. A colorful rug laid out on the floor, toys strewn everywhere. You took a few nervous steps forward. You had hoped there would be another layer of hallways, maybe another door somewhere. You were sorely disappointed.

From the corner of the room, you heard something move. You jumped, turning. A mass of fabric shifted, the form revealing itself to be a giant snake. It uncurled slowly, stretching out so you could see it's mismatched button eyes and patchwork skin. The giant snake came towards you happily, and you felt the weight on your chest lessen slightly, thankful it wasn't Jason.

You moved towards the door, but found you could no longer open it. The snake's body leaned against it, not budging an inch. It winded around you, curling you up in it's grasp. It's head rose up, and it smiled at you. It's dopey grin filled with sewing needles for teeth. It's mouth opened wider, preparing to swallow you up. What filled you with fear, however, was not that. It was that in the far back of the snake's throat, you saw a human hand reaching out for help.

You screamed. Pure panic taking over your body, the immediate threat of death forcing everything else away. You struggled fruitlessly, mind going blank. The snake lunged.

The next thing you knew, your body hit the floor. You gasped from the blunt pain, landing on your arm. Looking up, you saw Jason, who was calmly holding the giant snake by the back of his head, and reaching into it's mouth with his other arm, a passive expression on his face.

You shrank back, looking around for an escape, or even a weapon to use. You heard a sound, and turned back to see a girl with short black hair climb out of the snake. Jason, to your surprise, began to berate her.

"What did I tell you?" He said to her, "Didn't I tell you not to get too close to Mr. Glutton? Why am I always having a conversation like this with one of you? Next time, I'm leaving you in there to be digested, don't think I won't!" He admonished, shaking a finger at her disapprovingly. She apologized to him quietly, before glancing at you quickly, a nervous expression on her face. Jason looked at you too, and a dark pit formed in your stomach.

"Go, now," He said to the girl, still looking at you. She seemed to hesitate for a brief moment, before turning away and walking out. Jason came towards you, and you stiffened, before he offered his hand. You slowly took it, standing up and taking a step away from him. The snake, Mr. Glutton, was back to his corner, munching on a toy.

"That was one of my dolls, you see," Jason explained, catching your attention. His voice was reserved, eyeing you carefully. "It's what you would have become, if I hadn't given you another chance. There are many of them here, you may see a few as you explore this factory more often. I assume you were exploring, after all. After I was so gracious to you, I simply can't imagine why you would run away, right?" Jason said, his tone light, but held a warning underneath. You quickly nodded.

"Of course! Just exploring. You left so quickly after our talk, you see-" You began to try and explain, but he held up a hand to silence you.

"Right," He said, a smile forming on his face. "Of course, I believe you." Something told you he didn't, however. "But as you see, this is why certain areas are restricted. Mr. Glutton simply loves to eat anything, I usually feed him broken or useless toys. It's sometimes dangerous to get to close to him."

You nodded again, still nervous. He let out a sigh, and smiled at you warmly. "Let's get you back to your room. I'm sure you're tired from today's events, and don't worry, I'm not mad about your little outburst you had earlier- well not anymore, anyway," He said, leading you out of the room.

My outburst? You thought. I wasn't the one who ran out of the room. You didn't say anything about it, though, and followed him quietly back.

Jason opened the door to your room, gesturing for you to enter. You sat on the bed, noticing the pills and glass of water were still there.

"I'll let you rest. We can talk more tomorrow, love," He said, and quietly closed the door. After a moment, you took one of the pills, washing it down with water, and lied down. The pills took effect, numbing the pain of your headache, and sleep finally overtook you.

You woke up sometime later, unsure quite how long you were asleep, but it must've been quite a while. You got up and checked the door. Locked. It made sense, you supposed Jason didn't want you to rush off and go 'exploring' again. There wasn't much to do in the room, however, and even though you really didn't want to see Jason again, it felt like you had no choice. You knocked on the door, and loudly said, " Jason? It's me, I woke up. Can you unlock the door?"

There was no response, which you expected. A window was on the side of the room. It was too small to fit through, most likely, and there didn't appear to be any kind of latch to open it. Looking through it though, it appeared to be midday, a forest not too far away from where you were. It was hard to get a good look at the building you were in from the window. You huffed and sat back on the bed again, wondering when Jason was going to come get you. You hated even thinking that, but at least then you could leave the room.

Was he doing this on purpose? Leaving you in the room? So you would want to see him? You shook your head. No, no. He was just busy. Or too far away to hear you. You stood up again and knocked at the door. "Jason? Can anyone hear me? I'm awake. Hello?" You said loudly. No response. You jiggled the door handle again. Still locked. You kicked the door. It hurt, and the door didn't even budge.

"Goddammit," you muttered to yourself, holding your foot in pain.

Hours passed. You started to get hungry. You kept knocking on the door, you swore at least twice you heard someone pass by, but no one answered you. You felt like you were going crazy. Leaning your back against the door, you sighed.

"Jason?" You called out again, miserably. "Are you ignoring me? You said we'd talk." There was no response. You highly doubted he was actually outside the door, but you continued to speak. " Was it something I said? I'm, uhm..." You tried to think, staring at a toy mouse in the corner. " I'm sorry for running off. And for hurting your toy, but I already apologized for that. Oh!" You said, snapping your fingers. " Sorry for my, erm, outburst yesterday. Right, that's what you called it. Sorry. I shouldn't have...questioned you?" Yeah, that sounded like a fucked up thing to apologize for, especially once you said it outloud. Again, there was no response, and you sighed.

A few minutes passed, before you heard footsteps coming down the hallway. You stood up and began knocking at the door. "Jason? Jason, is that you?"

You heard the door unlock and smiled in relief when it opened, revealing Jason on the other side.

"Oh, are you awake already? " he asked, seemingly surprised. You almost hugged him in relief, before catching yourself. What were you thinking? You stepped back instead, composing yourself.

"Uh, yeah. For a while, actually. Didn't you hear me?" You asked, slightly annoyed. Jason shook his head innocently, his gaze traveling over to the black mouse in the corner of the room.

"Didn't hear a thing, doll. Anyways, you must be hungry. I'll have someone make you a sandwich, hm?"

You nodded, and followed him out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason does a few sneaky things in this chapter, doesn't he?


	4. All Dolled Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's in a bad mood

A week had passed since being dragged to the Hell that Jason referred to as his toy factory. It was difficult, to say the least. Jason's mind seemed to follow a logic only he could understand, and you struggled to play catch-up with all the rules he had in place for you. One of them was that you were required to spend time with Jason for a minimum of 5 hours a day. However, Jason never specified when these 5 hours would take place. Sometimes, he would come by in the morning to your room, other times he'd leave you alone to wander the halls of his factory. Either way, he'd always find you, usually with one of his dolls by his side.

Jason hated it when you left your room without him. He probably suspected you of trying to leave, which wasn't far from the truth. You did want to escape, but usually you left your room because you were bored. You had been careful, however, since the incident with his pet snake, and hadn't gone down any hallways or rooms he had warned you about. You had the sneaking suspicion that your key to escaping this awful place was probably down there, though. Either way, even if Jason was bitter about you leaving your room, he never told you not to.

It was one of those days where you hadn't seen Jason at all. You had wandered the halls for hours, slowly memorizing the layout. As you did so, a strange feeling came over you. The factory felt...off today. You weren't sure how exactly to describe it. You hadn't seen any of Jason's toys, which typically wandered the halls, same as you. There were strange sounds coming from farther into the factory, banging and rattling you couldn't quite place. It was as if the factory itself was holding its breath, waiting for a storm to break loose.

Eventually you spotted someone down the hallway. One of Jason's dolls, a young girl around 15 years old, with long, wavy blonde hair and hetero-chromatic eyes, one eye was blue, the other purple. The 'special touch' Jason had added on, besides probably her eyes, was a unicorn horn sticking out from her forehead. She was facing away from you, and for a moment you considered asking her where Jason was. But after a second, you instead turned down the hall and walked away. If Jason wanted to see you, he could find you. Besides, his dolls freaked you out. There was something truly unnerving about them to you. Perhaps it was because you knew that Jason had considered turning you into one. Every time you saw one of his dolls, you felt an involuntary shiver race up your spine.

You were glad, for the most part, that they stayed away from you. Aside from the one or two dolls that would follow Jason around, you almost never saw them. You wondered how they got around the factory, considering how they acted like servants, cleaning the place and fulfilling other small tasks Jason ordered.

As you walked away from the doll, that thumping noise you had been hearing on and off all day grew louder. Curious, you crept closer to the source. The noise became louder, and louder, until suddenly, it stopped.

You paused, waiting to hear it again. It seemed to be coming from Jason's workshop, and you hesitated outside the door. It was one of the places you weren't allowed into.

A hand grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around. Jason stood there, his hair shockingly white, his arms black and rotting, his eyes blazing green. He looked pissed.

"What. Are you doing. Outside my workshop?" He asked through clenched teeth. You noticing the side of his mouth was rotting as well, and you could see more of his teeth and muscle through it.

You tried to take a step back, but his hand on your shoulder held you firmly. He saw you try to move, and his expression changed into a malicious, mirthless smile. You were heavily reminded of the day he dragged you here, and felt tears spring into your eyes.

"Not going to answer me?" He said in a light tone. "Haven't you heard that silence in a guilty man's confession?"

"What?" You asked in a meek voice. Confession? What was he talking about? You didn't do anything! "I heard a noise, I wanted to see what it was, I wasn't going in there, I swear-"

"LIAR," Jason screamed, grabbing your shoulders, his claws digging into your skin. You cried out in pain, and he ignored you, pushing you backwards towards the door to his workshop.

"You want to see what's in there so badly, I'll show you!" He laughed. His voice quaked with gleeful insanity. He opened the door and shoved you in, sending you sprawling on the ground. "In fact, I'll give you a demonstration!" He grabbed your arm, yanking you up, his claws raking across your arm as you let out another scream. He slammed you onto a metal table, a shockwave of hurt going through your spine. You gasped from the pain, and Jason quickly grabbed your arm, fitting a leather strap over it, tying it down. As he leaned over to do the same with your other arm, he looked down at you and smiled brightly, his green eyes burning with insanity and rage.

"It's time to fix you up, don't you agree?" He taunted. He walked away, towards a table in the middle of the room, after a few moments, you heard his movements become more frantic.

"My saw...Where is it, where is it, WHERE IS IT?!" He said, his voice going from a whisper to a frenzied shout. "GOD DAMN IT," He screamed, slamming his fist on the table. He left the room, slamming it shut behind him.

You blinked, trying to clear the tears from your eyes. There was no way out of this. You were going to die, weren't you? You never even got to say goodbye to your parents. The tears fell anyway, as that last thought entered your head. Oh god, your parents. Did they ever find out what happened to you? Would they? You shook your head, trying to get he thoughts out of your brain. Your eyes focused on a blue door in front of you. Wait, was that...?

There was a movement towards your left, and you turned your head, trying to pull your body away as you flinched. Jason hadn't come back, as you thought, but instead the blonde haired doll was untying the strap on your wrist. She looked up at you, her eyes wide with fear.

"Please be quiet. We don't have much time," She whispered to you. You nodded, confused. You felt relieved, but slightly suspicious. She was one of Jason's dolls, why was she disobeying him?

She untied the other strap and helped you down. Almost immediately another arm grabbed your right hand, and you yelped, thinking it was Jason. Again, instead it was another doll. It was the one that had almost been swallowed by Mr. Glutton. She jumped, and both girls shushed you loudly. The black-haired girl had a dish towel in her hand, and she wrapped it around your left arm, which was the one with the most injuries.

Both the girls pulled you and shoved you over to the wall, and before you could say anything, the blonde girl placed her fingers into a small divot you hadn't noticed at first, and pushed the wall aside, like it was a sliding door. You opened your mouth to ask a question, but the black-haired girl covered your mouth with her hand and pushed you in. You were led forward by the blonde-haired girl, who held your hand gently. The other girl closed the door and followed behind you. You were in a small, narrow, hallway. The walls were a grayish-blue, the least amount of color you've seen in the factory so far. You held your questions in, not knowing if you were still supposed to be quiet or not. Eventually after twisting down the passageway for a couple minutes, they opened another door, and you breathed a small sigh of relief.

The room you entered seemed to be a small kitchen, and there were one or two other dolls waiting in there. The blonde led you to a wooden chair, and you sat down, your knees shaking somewhat. The black-haired girl moved past you, talking to the other dolls. The blonde doll put pressure on the dish towel wrapped around your left arm,looking at you with worried, multicolored eyes.

"Are you feeling alright?" She asked softly. You stared back at her, unsure of what to say. Thankfully though, the other girl came back, with a first aid kit, and began to talk to you in a assertive tone.

"Y/N- that's your name, right?" She waited for you to nod, "Ok, Y/N, we understand you just went through a stressful situation. We were hoping to get to you before Jason did, I'm sorry we failed." She wiped the blood off your arms with a wet rag, her eyebrows drawing together in contemplation. "Jason...isn't feeling himself today. He gets like this sometimes, usually it's best to stay away, but of course you didn't know that."

She unrolled a bandage, wrapping it around your arm.

"Do you have any questions?" She asked.

"I...what happened?" You asked. She didn't look at you, continuing to wrap the bandage.

"Jason's in a bad mood. He's been in one all day. When he's like this, he usually does a lot of things he usually wouldn't, and gets angry quickly. You happened to be around, and he tried taking out his anger on you. We saved you, you're staying in our part of the factory tonight, blah blah blah. Understand?" She said, finishing the bandage, and taking your other arm from the blonde girl, who gave you a supportive smile.

"Uhm, kind of..." You said, watching her wipe blood off of your arm. "I'm staying here tonight? Where's here?"

The blonde girl piped up. "Oh, still in the factory, its where all of Jason's dolls stay. Think of it as 'Servants Quarters', like they have in castles and old mansions."

The other girl glanced at you."It's the same with the hallway we went through. We have our own hallways so guests don't see us working. We have extra beds here, you can stay until Jason's feeling more like himself again."She finished explaining. She put the bandages away, and handed you a glass of water and a pill.

"For the pain," She explained. You cautiously took it. "My name, by the way, is Maggie. And that's Annabelle." Said the black-haired girl, pointing over to the blonde. Annabelle waved at you.

Maggie sighed, moving her short black hair behind her ear. "Tell me if you need something," She said, and walked away. Annabelle offered her hand to you.

"Come on," She said softly. "I'll show you to your bed." You followed her to a row of twin beds, all of them neatly made. She took you over to one at the end, where pajamas lay waiting for you on top of the comforter, folded neatly. Seeing this, tears sprung into your eyes, and you hugged her. 

"Thank you," You whispered in her ear. You felt her nod as she hugged you back. "It was...He was so scary. I thought I was gonna die," You said, your voice cracking slightly. She squeezed you tighter.

"I know, It's ok, I know," She whispered back. You let go and wiped your tears away. "Thanks," You said again, feeling slightly embarrassed. She nodded.

"No problem," She smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason's dolls are pretty cool, huh? girl power, whoo. Anyway, here's my little history lesson for today: a lot of older Victorian houses were designed in an odd, blocky fashion, with each room being very separate from the others. This was used to hide hallways and rooms designed for servants to use, so that guests and maids wouldn't be bumping past one another. They obviously didn't have hidden passage ways like the dolls do in this story, but the concept really stuck with me, so there's a bit of backstory for you.


	5. Unraveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend a short time with Jason's dolls.

You woke up to the sound of distant shouting. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, moving the covers off of you as you stumbled out of bed. You had slept in the dolls' sleeping quarters for the night, on one of the beds given to you. It was the best you'd slept since you came to Jason's factory, for once your sleep was not plagued with nightmares.

Carefully you crept toward the source of the noise, balancing on your toes as you peeked your head around the corner. In the kitchen, Jason was there, his hair was his usual red, but you noticed white lines going through it. He was clearly angry, his eyes a poisonous green color. He was shouting up a storm, throwing things across the room. It almost bore resemblance to a child throwing a temper tantrum.

Maggie was in front of him, her arms crossed in a wide stance. Her expression bore resemblance to a caretaker dealing with a naughty child.

Jason threw a glass at her. It hit the wall, inches from her head, but she didn't flinch.

"WHERE IS SHE? I KNOW you know where she is!" He screamed. She raised her chin at him.

"I have many dolls out looking for her Jason. You need to be patient and calm down." She said passively. He picked up a pot and threw it at the wall.

"YOU'RE KEEPING HER FROM ME!" He screamed. His voice was tinged with...desperation? Anguish? Your eyes narrowed, staring at him. You wondered what he would do if he found you, and moved closer to the wall, trying to stay hidden as you watched.

There was a clang as Jason threw something else, his breathing ragged and harsh. Maggie stepped forward and gently grabbed his arm.

"Jason," She started, and he pulled away from her, but he quelled his shouting for a moment, standing still. "I'll bring her back to you. But she's not here. We don't know where she is at the moment. Do you really want to see her when you're like this?"

"Like what?" Jason snarled, before his anger seemed to melt away, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "You'll bring her back?" He asked, almost childishly. She nodded.

"Go rest. Stop worrying. I have this under control," She said to him. He started to walk away, before pausing.

"Thank you," He said, in a half hearted tone of voice. He wandered off, and once you were sure he left, you walked into the kitchen.

"You're amazing," You breathed. Maggie looked at you, and gave a small smile.

"Thanks."

"How can you stand up to him like that?" You asked, glancing back to the door he left through.

"I know him, that's all," Maggie said nonchalantly, shrugging and picking up a broom and dustpan. " He's easier to deal with than you'd think. Just have to work around him and his moods." She began to sweep up the broken glass on the floor.

You still couldn't believe she lied to Jason's face like that. In an instant, Maggie had become your hero and your savior. You walked further into the kitchen. "Maggie, I wanted to thank you again, for saving me from Jason, and for letting me sleep here." If it hadn't been for her and Annabelle, you'd surely be dead. And now that Jason had lost you...this was your chance to escape.

She nodded again. "It's not a problem, really."

You continued. "I won't need much more trouble leaving. If you or Annabelle or some other doll could lead me back to his workshop when he's not there, that'd be great. The door I came through is in there, I saw it before you rescued me."

Maggie frowned, and turned to look at you, moving a lock of hair behind her ear before speaking. "We won't be able to do that," She said in a troubled tone.

"That's fine, you could just give me the directions through that hallway you took me through-"

She cut you off, shaking her head solemnly. "Y/N, I can't do that either." She sighed, leaning on the broom. "We're Jason's dolls. Once human, like you, before Jason 'fixed' us to be his idea of a perfect friend." She paused to see if you were following along. "I can lie to him, sure. But I can't disobey him directly, or do anything that makes him unhappy. None of us can, no matter how much we want to." Her voice trailed off into a whisper at the last line, and she looked away. "I'm sorry," she finished.

You tried to understand what she was telling you, shaking your head in disbelief. "No, but- but you could still lie to him! You could-"

"If you tried to leave on your own, I would not stop you. But I can't help you in any way. And if he asks us directly to stop you from going out that door...but he probably won't order that. "

"But you saved me!" You shouted at Maggie, tears beginning to form in your eyes. "You and Annabelle! You're just going to give me back to that monster?"

Maggie looked at you sympathetically. "Jason was going through a mood swing. We knew he would regret killing you, or turning you into a doll so soon. So we took you away until he felt like himself again. That's all. You'll go back to him tomorrow."

You stared at her in shock, a numb, bitter, feeling overtaking you. "So you didn't care about me?" You asked sadly. "It was just to placate Jason?" Maggie's eyes widened, and she put the broom to the side, coming towards you and pulling you into a tight hug.

"Oh, no no no sweetheart. I care. We all do. We were all in your position once, we know how it feels. We know it's scary. But there's nothing we can do about it." She leaned back and cupped your face in her hands, staring into your tearful eyes. "If there's one thing you have that we didn't, it's the knowledge that you aren't alone. Come to us whenever you feel like it, ok? We know how Jason can be."

Despite your sorrow, her words made you feel slightly better. You aren't alone. The thought rang in your head. You looked at Maggie. "I'm sorry," you said to her. She looked at you, confused.

"Why?" She asked.

"Because you had to do this alone. Because this happened to you too, and no one saved you."

She looked at you for a moment, and her lower lip trembled. She looked away, and whispered in a voice thick with tears, "Thank you."

The rest of your day was uneventful, for the most part. After you left the kitchen, Annabelle found you, and gave you a change of clothes. After slipping out of your pajamas and into the outfit she had given to you, she introduced you to some of the other dolls. You spent the day with them. It was probably the happiest you had been since coming to Jason's factory. The dolls taught you cards games and talked crap about Jason, their stories making you laugh until you cried. They told you about the places in the mansion you hadn't yet seen, the music room, the playroom, the ballroom.

The next day, Maggie woke you up, a sad, worried smile on her face. She seemed to feel bad about taking you back to Jason, so you thanked her once again for helping you, and gave her another quick, tight hug.

"Be safe, ok sweetheart?" She whispered to you, and you nodded, before letting go and following her back to the kitchen and out the strange small hallways reserved for the dolls. She led you down a winding path, down the constricting tunnels until Maggie finally stopped and slid open a door, taking you into the room. It seemed to be the sewing room, where Jason designed clothes and fabrics. He was working on something it seemed, laying fabric out onto a table. He didn't notice the two of you walk in.

A shiver went up your spine at seeing him again. His hair was completely red again, but it was disheveled, and his clothes were ruffled. He clearly seemed agitated, like something was on his mind. The image of him grabbing you, claws digging into your flesh went through your mind over and over again. You grabbed Maggie's hand for reassurance. She squeezed it sympathetically, before stepping forward and clearing her throat loudly.

"Jason," She said in a firm tone. "I found her." Jason looked up, his eyes widening as a smile broke out across his face. His shoulders relaxed, all signs of distraught gone as he quickly rushed towards you, grabbing you and looking you over, as if to prove you were really there.

"You're back!" he exclaimed, joy evident in his tone.

"I said she would be, didn't I?" Maggie responded calmly.

"Yes, yes, of course," Jason waved her away carelessly, not paying attention. "You're back!" He said again. You gave a tight smile, restraining yourself from wriggling out of his grasp.

"Yep, I'm back,"you responded, feigning a happy tone, unsuccessfully.

He turned to Maggie. "You can leave now," He ordered. She turned and left, giving you a short nod before she exited out the door in the wall. Jason sighed happily, giving you another smile. His honey-colored eyes seemed to drill themselves into your skull, rarely blinking, like he wanted to track your every movement.

"You shouldn't run away like that," He said to you. If I hadn't ran, you would have killed me, you thought. Instead of saying that, you nodded, giving another tight smile and a sorry.

"You should be sorry!" He proclaimed, and you tensed. "But it's all over now, so it's fine, I forgive you. I'm just glad you're safe, sweetheart." He hugged you. You bit your lip, trying not to scream, cry, whatever. All the happiness you had felt yesterday was gone. In Jason's factory, fear was the dominant emotion, that ruled all else.


	6. Tied Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You help Jason in the sewing room and meet another one of his dolls

You sat up in your bed, staring at the door across the room. You wished it was blue. Closing your eyes, you willed the door to change color, to become the one you saw in Jason's workshop. You opened your eyes again, to find the same cream-colored bedroom door. Sighing, you wrapped your arms around your legs, drawing them close to your body. You counted up the seconds in your head, and tried to not think about anything. You tried to savor these seconds, where you were perfectly alone, but the dark, empty feeling in your soul persisted. After a few minutes, there was a knock at your door. You slid off the bed, and opened it. 

"Hello dear. Are you ready?" Jason asked you, sweetly. You nodded, and took his hand as he led you out of your room and down the hall. As you walked alongside Jason, you looked across from him to see what doll Jason had brought along today. You hoped it was Maggie, but it wasn't. You recognized the doll slightly. Her hair had been replaced with raven feathers, and her hands resembled the talons of a bird, three claws to each hand. Her torso had also been carved out, replaced with bird cage. You shivered, thinking about how painful that must have been, and tried to push the unpleasant thought away, along with the churning in your stomach.

Leaning back, you examined Jason. He had the trace of a smile on his face, which relieved you. If Jason was in a good mood, it meant your day would go much better. Whether you liked it or not, your days revolved around Jason and his ever-shifting emotions. He had, however, been much nicer ever since you were "found" and returned to his grasp. He had tried to question where you had been, but you lied and said you had simply gotten horribly lost. Jason didn't seem to be entirely convinced by your story, but he let it slide. He hadn't even questioned how you escaped your restraints. Maybe Jason didn't remember tying you up. Or maybe he was so happy you were back he didn't care. Either way, for three days straight Jason had barely given you enough space to breathe. His focus was entirely on you, doting in a way that suffocated. 

"And here we are, ladies first, Y/N," Jason said to you with a pleasant smile. You entered the room, noting that 'ladies first' didn't apply to the other doll, who entered the room after Jason did. 

The room was the one you had been in only three short days ago- the sewing room. It was where Jason liked to design clothes and fabrics for himself and his dolls. You looked around the room with caution. "What are we doing today, Jason?" You asked, trying to sound curious instead of nervous. 

Jason placed his hand on his cheek delicately. He seemed almost embarrassed to answer. "Ah, well, I've been trying out some new designs, for clothes and such, dresses. I was wondering if you'd model for me? I want to see how they look on a living person."

You were slightly taken aback, but after a moment of hesitation, nodded. Jason smiled and clapped his hands together. 

"Wonderful!" He said.

Jason handed an article of clothing to the doll, and she led you behind a divider wall, helping you get dressed. It was a pale blue dress, lightweight and easy to move in. At the bottom of the dress was the image of a white bunny, stitched on. As you looked down at the fabric, you noticed it seemed to shimmer slightly, as if there was glitter on it. You moved your hands across the soft fabric, watching as the light caught it. 

You came out from behind the wall, where Jason was sitting down in a chair, waiting patiently. His face lit up when he saw you, and he immediately stood, moving around you and examining the dress, asking how it felt, how you liked the color, etc. You answered him, feeling slightly uncomfortable with him circling you like a hawk, grabbing parts of the dress the check the stitching, and tugging on the straps to make sure they weren't going to slip. Eventually he backed away, placing his hand under his chin and staring you down like an artist examining a painting. 

Feeling nervous, you straightened up, trying to look unphased. There was no real reason to be anxious, you knew that, but a part of you felt like Jason not liking the dress was somehow your fault. Wasn't that the point of models? To make an outfit look good? You spoke up, trying to defend your dress:

"I think it's cute."

"I didn't ask your opinion, I asked you to model." Jason said back bluntly. You shrank back a little, feeling a mixture of annoyed and hurt. Still, you held your head high, and waited on his verdict.

Jason stared at the dress for at least a full minute. Eventually he gave a short nod. "It's good enough. Might look better with a hat, maybe." He turned around and waved you off as you sighed in relief. "Take that off, I have another one for you."

You repeated the process a few times, and though it was still a little nerve-wracking, you found yourself having fun. You did weird poses you remember seeing on the cover of Vogue magazines, and tried offering imput when you could, and even though Jason shut your opinions down immediately, he seemed to appreciate the feedback, judging the outfits less harshly when you gave him an optimistic review.

You twirled, showing off the skirt and shirt you were trying on. "How does it look?" you asked him, striking a weird pose.

"Stop voguing. You aren't even doing it right," He said, rolling his eyes. 

"How would you even know!" You said right back. 

He made a face at you, and you stifled a laugh. "Because I was there, obviously, "He said. "The 1980s was one of my favorite periods in history."

You stopped posing. "Wait, how old are you?"

Jason seemed uncomfortable with the question. "Isn't that a little rude to ask?" He paused to sigh before muttering, "probably somewhere around 300 years, I think."

"You're three-hundred fucking years old??" You yelled out, surprised. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties. Though it explained why he was so uptight all the time, and some of his outfits.

"Don't swear," he started. "And, yes. I think so. I don't quite remember anything before the 1700s. " You opened your mouth to ask another question, but Jason cut you off, holding a hand up.

"I asked you to model, sweetheart. Not to interrogate me about my past. Next outfit, I don't like this one."

This continued for a while. Jason's sometimes took 15 minutes to decide whether he liked an outfit or not, other times you would walk out of the dressing room and he would immediately shake his head no. You were there for a few hours, helping Jason by modeling for him.

Eventually, you were in the back, Jason's doll helping you dress, tying a white ribbon into a bow at the back of a summer-yellow dress you had put on. You realized you hadn't said a word to her this entire time, which felt rude, seeing how Jason's dolls had helped you such a short time ago.

"Thanks for helping me with this," you said. She nodded, barely glancing up at you. You frowned, before trying again.

"What's your name?"

She finished tying the bow, straightening up. She was taller than you by a couple inches. She shook her head at you.

You were confused. "...Your...name?" You tried again, wondering if she heard you. She kept staring at you, a sad look in her eyes. Your chest tightened.

"Can you...can you speak?" You asked the doll meekly. She shook her head no. "Did, did Jason...?" You trailed off, unable to finish your thought. She understood your question, however. She nodded. You drew in a shaky breath, finding it difficult to breathe suddenly. _Why? _You wanted to ask her. She placed her hands on your shoulders, leaning down slightly, so she was eye-level. Her eyes, shadowed by her raven-feathered hair, were soft.

_It's ok_, she mouthed. She turned you around and pushed you out, back to where Jason was waiting. You were still trying to wrap your head around this new information. _How could he do that?_ You thought. _Imagine taking away someone's ability to speak, what was the reasoning behind it? How could anyone be that cruel, what if he does it to me-_

"Y/N?" Jason said, interrupting your thoughts. You jumped, turning to look at him. 

"Sorry," You said in a small voice. "I got distracted." You moved to the center of the room and stood there while Jason examined the dress. After a minute spent trying to regain some confidence, you asked him, "Jason?"

"Yes, dear?"

"What are you going to do with these clothes?"

"Oh," Jason said flippantly. "They're for the dolls of course. They need outfits that match their appearances, and I can't have them wear just _anything_ around guests. They need to be presentable, show off my good craftsmanship."

Your hands tightened into fists, and you told yourself to breathe, trying to calm down. You wanted to shout at him. His dolls are people, not objects for him to show off. Not _good craftsmanship_. You felt sick, realizing you had been helping Jason with this. 

"How much longer are we doing this?" You asked him suddenly. Jason paused, looking at you curiously. You looked away, so he wouldn't see the anger burning in your eyes. 

"Not too much longer, why?" He said.

"I don't feel well."

Jason placed a hand to your forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever."

"It's my stomach," you lied. "I think I just need to lay down for a while, then I'll be fine." You held your breath, waiting for Jason to respond.

He took his hand away from your head. "Fine. Go change back into your regular clothes. I'll take you back to your room."

You thanked him and changed quickly, putting on a pair of jeans and plain t-shirt. Jason led you back to your bedroom, the raven-haired doll following close behind.

"Do you need anything?" Jason asked you once you reached the cream-colored door. You shook your head. 

"Maybe some water, but I'll be fine," you replied. He nodded and looked at the doll expectantly, who turned and walked off to fill his silent order to get a glass of water. He looked back at you. "I'll check up on you in a few hours to see how you're doing. Feel better soon, alright dear?" He said, a soft smile on his face. Something about his last sentence felt more like an order than a wish. You nodded.

"I'll try," You replied awkwardly.

He looked at you with his honey-colored eyes. "Aw, Y/N," He said. "Don't try. Just do. Trying isn't perfection, and I want you to be perfect, yes?"

"Uhhm...Sure Jason. Yeah." You didn't know how to respond to that. "I'll just, tell my body to stop being sick."

He gave you a thumbs up and left. You closed the door behind you, sinking down into your bed, trying to not think about anything. It didn't work. Your mind kept wandering to Jason. Who was he? What type of person was he? Sometimes he seemed kind, mild-mannered, maybe a little pretentious or uptight, but he was good at keeping control, was detail-oriented and precise. 

Other times he was simply a nightmare. He became irrational and temperamental, paranoid and insane. But it wasn't like these two sides of him were completely separate. Maybe it was white-haired Jason that turned people into dolls, but it didn't seem to bother Jason when he was normal again. 

You sighed. These thoughts were getting you nowhere. You got up off the bed, picking a book off the small shelf on the wall, _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_, and the moment you plopped down on your bed again, there was a knock. Slightly annoyed, you got back up- again- and moved to open the door. There was no one there, but on the ground sat a glass of water, and a note. You picked up both, and turned the paper over in you hand to read it.

_My name is Raven_

You looked up, and saw the same doll from earlier today walking away from you. You considered calling after her, not even sure of what you would say, but before you could open your mouth she slid open a panel in the wall, and disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason liked the 1980s because he used to do massive amounts of coke back then send tweet


	7. Pincushion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend the day with Jason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My longest chapter yet! Made it as fluffy as I'm capable of. Sorry for the long wait, lol

_The snake was devouring you. You struggled fruitlessly against it's iron tight grip, placing your hands against Mr.Gluttons mouth, trying to pry his jaws open. The pain was unbearable, his needle sharp teeth digging into your legs. And then you heard a voice, just outside the hallway._

_"Y/N? Y/N, we're here, where are you?"_

_It was your dad. Your parents called out to you, and you smiled, tears of relief sprung into your eyes as you fought off the pain of the monster devouring you. You tried to call out to them, opening your mouth to shout._

_No words came out. Nothing. You opened and closed your mouth, fear suddenly resurfacing and crashing on top of you. Your hands flung up to scratch at your throat, leaving your body vulnerable to Mr.Glutton, as he gleefully continued to swallow you whole, now unimpeded by your arms. You screamed and screamed, your voice as silent as your tears. You listened to your parents walk past you._

_"No!" You mouthed silently. Your hands tried to grasp at Mr. Glutton again, to stop his feast to no avail. It was too late, and his jaws opened wide to swallow your head as you desperately tried to scream out something, anything-_

And that's when you woke up, screaming. You gasped for breath, shaking as you stumbled out of bed, trying to stop the flow of tears from your eyes. Eventually, your sobs subsided, and you checked the clock next to your nightstand. 7 am. You considered going back to bed, but memories of the nightmare you had stopped you. Like hell you were going to sleep after _that._

You opened the door and left your bedroom, walking down the hallways, steering clear of the ones Jason forbid you from going down (Knowing Mr. Glutton was probably down one of them). Other than that, you had no idea where you were going. You just needed to clear your head.

Unconsciously, you found yourself walking down a familiar path, and ended up in the kitchen. A familiar golden-haired girl looked up as you entered.

"Y/N!" Annabelle said, her face lighting up. She ran forward to hug you, an action you responded to in kind, thankful she was here.

"Annabelle! I didn't think you'd be here," you said, as you pulled away from the hug to look at her.

"Why? Were you looking for me?" She asked, confused. You gave her an awkward smile.

"Well, not really. I had a bad dream, it's nothing really...I'm just glad I have someone to talk to now, I feel like I haven't seen you or Maggie in forever!" You explained, trying to wave away her concern. She pat the table, motioning for you to sit down. You complied, sitting in the chair nearest to you.

"Do you want something to eat?" She asked, heading to the fridge and opening it.

"If it's not too much trouble, sure," You said back. You didn't feel hungry, but forced yourself to say yes anyway. Annabelle began to pull out things from the fridge, laying them on the counter.

"What was your dream?" She asked, glancing over her shoulder to look at you. You shifted in your chair, the memories of the dream causing tears to come into your eyes again.

"I...my family was looking for me." You said. You opened your mouth to continue, then closed it again. You didn't want to talk about it anymore. Annabelle noticed the sadness that seemed to wash over you.

She turned back to the stove, getting out a spatula. "I'm making eggs and some bacon, is that ok?" You nodded.

"Thanks."

"No problem, Y/N." She responded. Neither of you spoke for a while, and the only sound in the room was the crackle of the frying pan as food cooked, and the scraping of a spatula. You stared off into space.

"Annabelle..." You started. "Do you think...do you ever think about your old life?" You asked her. You knew you probably shouldn't have asked, but you couldn't help yourself. You needed comfort from someone who could relate to what you were going through.

She didn't respond right away, moving the spatula across the pan a few more times, before eventually turning it off, not looking at you. "Not really," she said. Her voice held a mixture of surprise and guilt, like she'd never realized it before. "Maybe at first I did, but there was always something to do, work and the other dolls here to distract me from thinking about my old life." She reached into a cabinet, pulling out a plate. "I still miss my old life, but no, I don't think about it much anymore. I barely remember most of it."

She placed the plate in front of you, sitting down at the table. "What was your dream about?" She asked. You were confused for a moment, since you knew you had already told her. But then you realized she was asking something slightly different.

"I'm worried I'll never see my family again," you responded.

She stared at you wistfully."Sometimes, when you lose something, I think the feelings of finding it again can be worse than never getting it back." She said softly.

You stared back at her, confused. What did that mean? You opened your mouth to ask her, but then the kitchen door opened, and Jason entered the room.

This Jason was different from any version you'd seen on him before. He looked...sleepy. He wore flannel pajama pants, and an old grey T-Shirt of a band you didn't recognize. His eyes were half-lidded, his mouth set into a grumpy line. It was so unlike the Jason you were used to, who's fancy clothes were always in perfect condition, and who always seemed so alert and controlled. He sat in the chair across from you, barely sparing you a glance, instead grabbing a newspaper that was nearby and flicking through it. Annabelle, who had stood the moment Jason entered, brought him a cup of coffee, placing it in front of him. He thanked her and waved her away in a tired voice, resting his head in his palm as he read the paper.

You tried not to stare at him, nervous, and focused on eating the food on your plate. It tasted amazing, so it wasn't difficult to scarf down. You couldn't help but eye Jason, though. It was like seeing your teacher at the grocery store- you had kind of forgotten Jason was an actual person, who did normal things like drink coffee and sleep and laze around in pajamas.

As Jason sipped his coffee, he slowly stirred out of the sleepy haze he was in, interacting with you in increments. After about 10 minutes of sitting down, he finally bothered to talk to you.

"You're up early," He stated, not looking up. It wasn't really a greeting as much as it was a fact.

"Good morning," You said back. "And, yeah, I guess I am," you added, hastily responding to his question. He grimaced and turned the page of the newspaper.

_"Good morning,"_ he mimicked with disgust. "Nothing good about the mornings, not at all." He took another sip of his coffee. "Are you a morning person?" He asked nonchalantly.

"No," you said quickly. You weren't a morning person, but even if you were, you'd never admit it to Jason. The smallest of statements could turn his mood sour, and you really weren't sure what kind of frame of mind he was in now.

"Good, we'll get along splendidly then," he said lightly. He turned the page of the newspaper. "Oh, the obituary. Lovely."

You gave him a strange look, not knowing how to respond to his latter statement. Jason wasn't usually so... relaxed. You grabbed your empty plate and put it in the sink.

He continued to talk out loud absentmindedly. "A lot of funerals on a Sunday...bad choice if you ask me...aren't obituaries written for important people? I certainly never remember reading these names before..."

You felt a flare of anger. He was talking about people's deaths like it was the weather! "Those people were important to the ones that loved them, Jason. It doesn't matter if you remember them or not, they weren't written for you!" You snapped at him.

He finally looked up from the paper and looked at you. Immediately your anger was squashed out, replaced by fear. Had you made him angry? He stared at you for a moment, before humphing and turning back to the paper.

"If they were important they wouldn't have had the funeral on a Sunday..." He muttered. You rolled your eyes. There was no way to get through to him, was there? You were glad he wasn't angry at you, though. You walked back towards the table, but before you sat down, Jason lifted his cup and pushed it towards you. You stared at it, then back at him.

"What do you want me to do with this?" you asked.

"Refill it, darling."

You noticed the coffee pot on the counter and walked over, pouring some of it into the cup. He could have at least said please. A few choice words ran through your head as you handed the cup back to Jason. He absentmindedly said thanks, and you sat back down, watching him. He seemed to have nearly recovered from his sleepy haze from earlier, you noticed. His golden eyes were brighter, more energized, and he stood up straighter, without needing his hand under his chin to keep his head upright.

"What were you talking about earlier?" He asked suddenly.

You frowned. "Earlier?" You tried to think back, trying to figure out what he meant.

"When I came in, you were conversing with Annabelle." He explained. Oh.

"It was nothing," you said quickly. You definitely didn't want to tell Jason about your dream.

He raised an eyebrow. "You talked about nothing..." He muttered. "What an interesting topic of conversation."There was a sarcastic edge to his tone, but he didn't press you for another answer. Jason lifted the newspaper and grabbed a pad of paper that was laying underneath it, and pulled out a pen from his pocket. He clicked it and began to write down what appeared to be a list.

"We're going to be quite busy today, lots of things I'll need to get done soon."

"We?" You repeated. He glanced at you disparagingly.

"Yes, 'we'." He responded in a slightly exasperated tone. "Why, do you have another pressing engagement taking up your time today?" He asked you sarcastically. It took more effort than it should have to not say yes.

"No, I just wanted some clarification," you responded sullenly, sinking down in your chair. You wished Annabelle was still in the kitchen, just so you wouldn't have to deal with Jason alone. Did he have to have a snide remark to everything?

He waved you away with one hand. "Get dressed," he said. "I'll come get you when I'm ready."

You did as he asked, and changed out of your pajamas into a sweater and leggings. You looked at yourself in the mirror, striking a pose. Cute.

After that, you impatiently waited for Jason to come get you. You continued to read _Alice in Wonderland_, interspersed with you continuously peeking your head outside the door, looking around for him. You would've wandered off, but were worried about the consequences. _I mean,_ you thought, _he said 'I'll come get you', but he technically didn't specify he'd get me from my room...right?_ You sighed, and decided you were better off staying in your bedroom. After 40 minutes, you heard a knock at your door.

You jumped up, running to the door and swinging it open. Jason was on he other side, perfectly dressed and poised.

"...You looked better in pajamas," you said. His eyebrows drew together in annoyance, but the corner of his lips twitched upwards.

"So did you," he responded. You smiled at him, and he offered you his hand, which you accepted, and he led you down the hall.

The list of things Jason needed to do were, apparently, mostly housekeeping chores to make sure the factory was in good condition. You followed him through nearly each and every room in the house, as he examined each one and took notes on it. If you had any problems trying to find your way around, you didn't anymore. Jason was basically taking you on an informal tour of the place, and you studiously began to memorize the layout.

Just as he had been with clothes, Jason was incredibly detail-oriented with his rooms. Each one had a different color, or theme, or design to catch one's eye. You rushed after him, trying to understand how he managed to be so good at this.

At one point, Jason walked into a room, and didn't pause for a second as he made a beeline for a table across the place. He swiped his finger across it.

"Ha! It's dusty. Utterly reprehensible." He took a note in his notepad.

"Dust? That's not that bad, Jason." You said. He looked at you with shock.

"Not that bad? It's practically a crime. Dust means no one has entered this room in a while, which means no one's cleaned it in a while, which means there's dust!" He threw his hands up in the air. "The cycle repeats itself. It's madness." He brushed past you. "Moving on," he said brightly. You shook your head at him,sighing as you followed.

In the next room, you stared at the walls, frowning. "So what was your inspiration behind the design of this room?" You asked. In front of you was a giant painting of kittens. The rest of the room was similarly cat-themed. And not in a cute way, more in a crazy-old- lady way.

"I was going through something," he muttered. His face was turning slightly pink. "I've been meaning to redecorate this one for a while now."

You smirked, and then let out a giggle. "This is so awful," you said, gesturing to the painting and laughing. He glanced at you, then back at the painting. A small smile broke out across his face as he began to laugh with you.

"It really is, isn't it?" He said. "I'll take it down tomorrow, probably. This room is a disgrace." He gently placed his hand on your back, leading you out of the room as you continued your laughing fit.

Around lunch, he let you take a break and go down to the kitchen. You didn't see Annabelle, or any other doll for that matter, but a grilled cheese sat on the table with a bag of your favorite chips. A note next to it had your name written on it, designating the sandwich as yours. it was a damn good sandwich.

Jason hadn't really given you any direction after that, so you decided to wander around for a bit. Eventually you noticed a very cute teddy bear chasing after you, and slowed down so it would catch up. It stopped in front of you, seemingly out of breath, and proudly thrust a note towards you. You bent down and took it from between it's paws, thanking it. The bear nodded and sprinted off. You opened the folded piece of paper and read it.

_Y/N-_

_Feel free to come to the top floor of the factory, I have a small task for you. Be back down by 5:30, I'll be in the kitchen by then._

_-Your Dear Friend, Jason_

You folded the letter back up, tucking it into a pocket. You began to make your way up to the top floor of Jason's factory. You were surprised you'd never bothered to head up there before, but when you came to the set of stairs that led there, you remembered why. Jason had initially blocked it off from you, saying it was 'under construction', an excuse he said about a lot of places you weren't allowed into. You bypassed the stairs with a small amount of glee, feeling a little proud about finally being allowed to enter.

The top floor of his factory was a greenhouse. A huge, expansive garden, neatly organized with signs. Small cobblestone paths led you between the sectioned off plots of land. There was a table near the entrance to the garden, with a note written in Jason's loopy, delicate handwriting. 

_Red Onion, Carrot, Broccoli, Bell Pepper, Squash, Zucchini, Grape Tomatoes (10), Parsley_

_-Thank you darling,_

_-Your best friend, Jason_

Next to his list were a pair of gardening gloves. You put them on begrudgingly. They fit perfectly, and you picked up the list, grabbing a basket and a spade that lay nearby, and got to work.

When you were done, you looked around for a clock, wiping the sweat off your brow with your dirt-covered glove, leaving a smear of mud across your forehead. It was nearly 5:30, so you quickly picked up the now-full basket of vegetables and speed-walked downstairs, wondering what Jason was doing.

As promised, he was in the kitchen. He was humming softly to himself as you came in, filling a large pot with water. Upon hearing you enter, Jason turned and smiled at you.

"I'm glad you got my notes, I was just about to send for you. You can place the basket next to me," he said, nodding his head to the counter next to the sink. You put them down and let out a sigh of relief, pulling off your gardening gloves. Jason placed the pot of water onto the stove, and you used the opportunity to wash off whatever dirt was still on your hands. Suddenly you felt a hand placed itself under your chin, and you jerked back to see Jason smirking.

"Hold still," he said, grabbing your chin again. He gently held your face and wiped the dirt off your forehead with a rag, a smile on his face as he did so. There was an amused look in his honey-colored eyes as he tutted. "Look at you, getting dirt everywhere. How am I supposed to cope with all the mud you've tracked on my floors?" He said lightly.

You shrugged, at more comfortable with him touching you now that you knew what he was doing. "Worry about it tomorrow?" You suggested. He let out a snort, letting go of your face and examining the vegetables from the basket.

"Perhaps, darling. Now if you would be so kind as to wash these while I get out the cutting boards?" Jason asked, handing you a red bell pepper. You nodded, taking it and turning on the sink.

"What are you making?"

"'We', darling, 'we' are making pasta primavera together for dinner." Jason explained as he laid two cutting boards onto the table.

You raised your eyebrows, placing the washed vegetables on a paper towel. "Ohh, sounds fancy, what beautiful 200 year old town did you learn this recipe?" You asked. He frowned at the sly remark about his age as he responded, "New York city. And it was invented in the 1970s, for your information."

"Aw, so its not that cool or fancy then?"

"It is most definitely 'cool',and it tastes great. I thought it would be easy for you to make." Jason huffed. You put your hands on your hips, turning to him in mock dismay.

"Jason! Are you accusing me of being a bad cook?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation, "I'd rather do that then assume you were a good cook and be proven wrong."

You thought about that for a second. "Hm. Good point. But still rude," you said, and turned back to finish washing off the vegetables. You handed them off to him and he neatly sliced them up. He offered you a paring knife and you got to work beside him, carefully slicing up some zucchini. When you both finished, he took the vegetables and put them in a pan, dousing them with a large amount of olive oil. He asked you to keep watch of the pasta while he stirred around the veggies.

You ended up watching Jason instead. You watched strands of red hair fall in front of his face as he sautéd the food. He pushed the hair back behind his ear with a finger, his careful eyes never deviating from the task at hand. He was handsome, to say the least. You could admit that to yourself. Jason finally turned the stove off and looked at you, giving you his familiar mischievous smile.

"What is it?" He asked, but he asked like he already knew the answer. You'd tell Jason he was pretty over his dead body, so instead you stuck your tongue out at him and asked if dinner was ready yet.

He picked up the pot of spaghetti, draining the water from it. "Almost," he said, "Go set the table, I'll be there in a minute."

You grabbed a couple plates and some silverware, laying them out as nice as you could. Jason followed you to the table a moment later, portioning some of the pasta onto both of your plates.

"Dinner is served, madame," Jason said dramatically, before sitting down. You smiled, grabbing your fork and trying it. The food was fantastic.

"Jason, I didn't realize you cooked. Or that you were good at it," you said, shoveling forkfuls of pasta into your mouth.

He snorted, shaking his head at you. "Cooking is another hobby of mine, I've had years to perfect my skills," he said.

"Speaking of hobbies," you said, "what's up with that garden? How many hobbies do you have exactly?"

"I'm not sure if I consider gardening another hobby," he said, taking a bite of food. "Gardening is just a part of my cooking hobby. I need fresh vegetables and fruits ready anytime. I hardly even go up there, the dolls do most of the work."

You smirked at Jason, pointing your fork towards him. "Afraid to get your hands dirty, Jason?"

He rolled his eyes at you, in a playful sort of way as he took a sip of some wine. "Of course not. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to keep these clothes from getting stained." You laughed, shaking your head at him. The rest of dinner went smoothly, the both of you easily carrying the conversation. You helped him with the dishes.

"Thanks for cooking tonight," You said to him, drying off a plate with a hand towel. "It was good."

"Thanks for helping me cook," he said back, flicking water at you. You let out a laugh as a few droplets hit you, putting the plate back into the cabinet.

Jason turned off the faucet, and helped you dry off the last few dishes. "I think I could make a great cook out of you, with some practice."

"As if I'm not a fantastic cook already," you quickly replied.

"Oh yes," Jason said, smiling as he put a cup away. "Excuse me for forgetting, chef Y/N."

You followed him as the two of you left the kitchen, walking down the hallway. Jason was relaxed as he spoke. "I do have a few recipes we could try sometime, or if you'd like I'll show you how to sew. Not tomorrow, I'll be rather busy running errands outside the factory, but after that..." he trailed off, and looked at you hopefully.

You smiled at him softly, "sounds like a plan," you said. He blushed, looking down at the ground as he grinned.

He stopped walking and you realized you were outside the door to your bedroom. You hadn't even realized Jason was walking this way, unconsciously following him where ever.

"Y/N?" Jason started, and you turned away from the door and back towards him. He seemed apprehensive. "I'm glad you've found your place here, with me. I admit I was worried at first, but you've seemed to have acclimated quite well."

You weren't sure how to respond, but Jason didn't need an answer. He gently took your hand and kissed it. "Good night, doll," he murmured. You watched him leave, your hand falling back to your side limply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Here: cookingclassy.com/pasta-primavera/


	8. Not Soft Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N makes a decision

You sat in your bedroom, curling the bedsheets between your fingers. A furious debate was currently raging in your mind, an unanswered question that refused to be forgotten about or ignored.

Jason had told you he would be busy tomorrow, before he had ever so gently kissed your hand and retired to his room for the night. Which meant you might have a chance to escape. The small flame of hope inside your chest lit even brighter than before, thinking about your home, of your parents, of your bedroom- your real one, not the one in Jason's factory- and your heart swelled.

But your sense of hope was diminished somewhat. An new emotion had wrapped itself around your heart and tugged it back down.

Guilt.

You thought about Jason. Hadn't he promised to to teach you how to cook? He offered to teach you how to sew, too, after remembering your suggestions to the clothes he had made. Sometimes you caught him staring at you like you were the only thing in existence that mattered. There was something about you that consumed him, so much adoration and desperation in his honey-colored eyes you were often taken aback. You remembered how delicate he had been with you recently, how kind he could be sometimes.

But hadn't he hurt you, too? He had kidnapped you- taken you from your home without so much as a goodbye. He had nearly KILLED you for no reason whatsoever. There was always a danger to being around Jason. Hell, there was a danger to being in his factory, where every toy and doll and thing had been made to his exact and severe instructions.

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind. Tomorrow, you would decide what to do. You were going to find one of Jason's dolls, first, and ask them if Jason was in his workshop. If he wasn't, you would leave. If he was, then you would stay. You knew the dolls weren't allowed to aid in your escape, but your question had nothing to do with it, and if you were caught, you could say you were trying to find him.

Laying down in your bed, your pulled the covers close, squeezing your eyes shut in the hopes that doing so would stop the dreadful cycle of thoughts that consumed you. Sleep did not come easy that night.

The next day, you got dressed and tiptoed over to the door, peeking your head out. You knew Jason wasn't around, but some terrible anxiety in your gut made you believe that he would show up at any moment. You headed out, making your way towards the kitchen before stopping yourself. It was still early in the day, which meant Jason could be in there. You frowned, thinking. You didn't know where else you could easily find one of the dolls, since their rooms were next to the kitchen. If you wandered around long enough, you'd probably bump into one of them, but that also left the chance that you would run into Jason. If that happened, he might try and take you along with him like he did the day before, and then you'd lose your only chance at escape.

A small voice in your head wondered again if maybe that was a good thing, but you shook your head, telling it to shut up. An idea came to you, and you went down the hallway, trailing your fingers along the wall. Eventually your fingers came across a small divot, almost unnoticeable.It looked like a small dent. You knocked on that section of the wall, and felt a hollowness behind it. Smiling at your own problem-solving skills, you pulled the dent to the side, and the wall slid to the side, revealing a passageway that only Jason's dolls used. You shut the piece of wall behind you, and stood in the dimly lit, narrow hallway, choosing a random direction and walking.

After some time walking down random hallways and trying not to think about how lost you probably were, a door suddenly slid open, and Maggie stepped through, holding a feather duster in her hand.

"Maggie!" You shouted, running towards her. She looked shocked to see you in here. You hugged her, happy to see her again. She let you hang on for a few seconds, before pushing you away. Her eyes were wide as she looked away, her short dark hair falling to shield her face.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" She whispered. She sounded...worried. You blinked, concern beginning to come over you.

"What's wrong?" You asked, trying to catch her eyes. She refused to comply, staring at the wall in unease.

"You aren't supposed to be in here," she whispered. "I shouldn't be even talking to you."

You leaned back, confused. "What? Why can't you talk to me?"

Maggie shook her head, sighing and closing her eyes for a moment, as if preparing herself. "Y/N, none of us are allowed to talk to you. Jason gave an order to the dolls last night."

You stammered, trying to process what she was saying. "But- but why? That makes no sense!" You managed to get out.

"Dolls aren't supposed to be seen or heard, Y/N. And they especially shouldn't be on first-name basis with guests." Maggie finally looked at you, her eyes were stony. "But I know Jason. He gave out that order because he's jealous how easily you and the rest of the dolls have been getting along."

"Jealous?" You repeated. That was insane! You told her so. 

Maggie smiled. It was sharp and bitter. "He hasn't changed at all in 300 years, has he?" She said. She shook her head. "I need to go. Sorry Y/N."

She began to shoulder her way past you, but you snapped out of your shock and turned to her. "Wait, Maggie, where's Jason? Is he in his workshop?"

She narrowed her eyes at you. "You won't be able to change his mind."

"I know," you said grimly. "Is he is his workshop?"

She seemed confused, but then a realization came over her, and the worried look came back into her eyes. After some hesitation, she whispered, "no."

You hugged her again, and this time she returned it. "Be safe," she whispered. You nodded. Telling her outright you were leaving would endanger both of you, but it was clear she understood anyway. You wondered if she would be able to tell the others. They'd find out eventually though, wouldn't they?

She walked away, and you exited through the wall you had seen Maggie come in, stepping out into a random room. You walked out of the room, back into the main hallway of the factory. You were thankful you had managed to memorize the factory so well, otherwise you would have been completely lost.

You made your way to Jason's workshop. The small voice in the back of your head had shut up completely. Jason cutting you off from the dolls was the last straw. Because of them, life in the factory had become manageable. You trusted them. Jason had cut you off from your family, your friends, and now he had tried to cut you off from the last few connections you had besides him. You weren't going to put up with it anymore. You were going home.

As you came closer and closer to the door to the workshop, your hands began to shake and sweat. You hadn't gone near this place since Jason had tried to kill you.

You thought about that sentence again. Jason had tried to kill you. Why the hell had you considered staying? You knew now that things would never get any better between you and Jason.

You saw the workshop door. Your shoes felt like they were made of lead, as you forced yourself towards the door, despite the panicking voice in your head telling you that he was behind you, that he was inside, that he knew you were trying to escape.

You opened the door, your throat dry. The workshop was empty. You dared to glance behind you. The hallway was empty.

The blue door stood to the side. You walked past the table you remember Jason tying you down to. You tried to ignore the memory of his face, twisted and snarling, as he vowed to fix you. You took a deep breath and faced the door. It was a dusty blue, the golden handle was dull from use.

You reached forward, and turned it, stepping through the doorway. _Home, home, home,_ you thought, desperation and hope clinging to you like glitter.

You were in your room. Your actual room, in your actual house, not some factory in the middle of nowhere. It looked the same as when you had left, except for some dust that floated through the air. You closed the door behind you, feeling the knob click in place. As you walked away, the door disintegrated, turning back into your closet door again.

You walked through your room, into the hallway and down to your kitchen. Your parents sat at the dining table, looking quieter and sadder than you had ever seen them before.

They saw you. There was a brief pause, like the world had stopped moving. Your breath caught in your throat. They stared at you like you were a ghost, months of heartbreak in their eyes. And then it was over, your parents jumped up from their chairs and rushed over, pulling you into a hug and bursting into tears. You clung to them, as if the moment you let go they would disappear into mist. The three of you huddled together, a giant mass of hugging and crying and sadness and love.

There was a lot of conversation after that. You weren't sure how to answer their questions. _Where did you go? _you didn't know, the factory. _How did you escape?_ I went through the blue door. _Who kidnapped you? _Jason. _Who's Jason? _A toymaker.

After a while, your parents made you your favorite food and let you sleep. You could tell they were worried about you, which made sense. After being home for a few hours, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps you were insane. At the factory, the answers to those questions had made perfect sense. The factory felt like an entirely different world, one that revolved around Jason and only Jason. But here? Everything was different. It was strange. You were still getting used to being home again.

Jason's house was filled with bright colors, and your house felt dull compared to it. You saw one of your childhood toys in your room and started crying. But you were home. And that's all that mattered. You slept in your parents bed that night, something you hadn't done since you were a kid. But the idea of sleeping in your bedroom again was too much right now. Your parents said they would drive you to the police station tomorrow, so you could be questioned, and they could arrest your kidnapper. Something told you that wouldn't be possible, but you nodded anyway.

You drifted off to sleep. You were happy, but still scared, still nervous. The exhaustion you felt was immense, however. You were safe, finally. You were home.

The next morning, you woke up, your mind foggy from rest. You opened your eyes.

"Good morning dear, do you take coffee or tea?" Jason said.


	9. Ripped Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend another day with Jason, and try to unravel what exactly happened yesterday, or if yesterday even happened at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for graphic descriptions of blood and death, though the majority of it is near the end. Lmk if there's any formatting issues

Your eyes snapped open. You were fully awake now, looking up to see Jason standing by your bedside with a small tray. Quickly looking around, you realized you were back in your room at the factory. Your parents were nowhere to be seen. Your breathing hitched as panic began to rise in the back of your throat.

"Y/N, coffee or tea?" Jason repeated, his words firmer this time. You sat up, the covers falling off of you.

"C- coffee," you squeaked out, not really caring about the drink. How did you end up back here? What was going on? You scanned Jason's face intently as he poured coffee into a cup for you. There didn't appear to be any traces of ill-will on his face. He appeared to be completely normal. His eyes were still a soft honey-yellow, his fingernails were normal and not clawed, and his hair was still completely red.

He noticed you staring, and smiled. "You seem quite distracted this morning. Have any dreams?" 

"Uhm...maybe," you murmured. Yesterday was real right? You escaped? But then, why were you here, and why was Jason so calm?

"Do you take any sugar or milk with it?" he asked. It took you a moment to realize he was still talking about the coffee.

"...milk, please..." you said. He poured a decent amount in and handed it to you. You were hesitant to take a sip. What if he had poisoned it as revenge for you running away?

Jason made himself some coffee as he talked to you. "I wanted to surprise you with breakfast today, as an apology for leaving you alone yesterday. You must have missed me terribly," he said, a small smile on his face. You nodded, looking for any sign that he knew you were lying. He must have known you escaped right? He had to! Was this all some sort of test? You looked down into your coffee, trying to hide to utter panic on your face.

"Is something wrong, Y/N?" Jason asked sweetly. You suppressed the urge to vomit.

"I'm ok, Jason. I'm just...tired," you lied.

"Well, good thing I came with coffee then! We have a full day ahead of us, I have a few things in mind for us to do. Remember when you were asking me about sewing?" Jason went on about the plans he had made for the both of you, which eased some of the anxiety you had. Everything was completely normal, Jason was the same as ever.

But then...what happened yesterday?

"I'll give you 10 minutes to get ready, and then we're leaving." Jason finished, pulling you out of your thoughts, and exited the room. You got up, putting the coffee to the side, and got ready for the day ahead of you.

The first place you and Jason went was his workshop. The confusion and fear you were trying to push aside rose significantly when you realized he was heading that way. Jason never let you near his workshop before. He had to know that you went through the door, right? What if he was bringing you in here to turn you into a doll? You glanced up at him. He was walking slightly ahead of you, humming a tune to himself. There was still no trace of anger or resentment on his face.

He reached the door to his workshop and opened it, turning to you. He paused, looking at you with surprise and concern. "Y/N?" He asked, "Are you alright? You're looking a bit pale."

You could barely believe how confused he seemed. Did yesterday really not happen? "W-well, I thought I wasn't supposed to go into the workshop." You stuttered out. To be fair, he did attack you once when you came near this room.

He seemed to remember what you were talking about. "Oh! Is this about last time, when I yelled at you?" He waved his hand across. "Water under the bridge dear. You can come into the workshop, provided that I'm with you." He opened the door more, gesturing for you to enter. _You did a lot more than just yell at me,_ you thought with a twinge of annoyance as you stepped into the room. He followed after you, closing the door behind him.

The only two times you've been in Jason's workshop, your mind was consumed by fear. A sense of paranoia and nervousness still clutched your heart as you stood there, but it was dulled by the waves of confusion that you had been drowning in since this morning. Now you were able to clearly see the workshop, something fear had never quite allowed you to do before.

The workshop was a large space, and it was clear that Jason spent a lot of time here. In the middle of the room was a large workbench, cluttered with fabric scraps, blueprints, and paper detailing the latest ideas and designs Jason hadn't managed to create yet. There was a fabric rack with wheels on it for easy accessibility, with multiple rolls of brightly colored silk, cotton, and wool cloth on it. There was of course the metal table, which you assumed he used to turn people into his "dolls". You shivered, remembering the time you had been strapped down to it.

Jason moved over to his workbench, moving some of the papers aside as he tried to create a free space for himself to work. He glanced up at you and smiled softly, motioning over to a chair next to his desk. "Feel free to sit down and make yourself comfortable, Y/N. I'm just trying to tie up a few loose ends around here," he said to you.

You followed his instructions, sitting down in the chair. You tried to pay attention to whatever Jason was doing, but your mind kept sliding it's focus elsewhere. The blue door was in this workshop. You didn't dare look at it when you first came in, but as the minutes ticked by it became increasingly difficult to ignore the itching feeling in your brain, that dared you to peek over and stare at it. You looked up at Jason. He wasn't paying attention to you at the moment, it seemed he was cleaning some metal object, humming a light tune under his breath. You steeled your nerves and looked across the room.

The blue door looked the same as it did yesterday. That is, if yesterday had even happened. A bold blue, dulled by time, with a golden doorknob that invited you to grab on and run away again. Confusion and pain surfaced again, tears springing into the corners of your eyes. Did you actually see your parents again? Or was it just a hallucination, a dream, created by your desperate mind? You tried to blink your tears away, discreetly wiping your eyes. You didn't want Jason to see you upset, worried he would ask you what was wrong. You weren't even sure you would know how to answer a question like that. Everything, it seemed, was very, very wrong.

Jason finished whatever he had been working on- you didn't pay enough attention to figure out what he was doing, and didn't have the energy to ask- and led you out of the room. You were almost happy to leave his workshop, wanting to get away from the confusing emotions the place gave you. You both entered his sewing room, and he handed you what looked like a small wooden hoop. You looked at him in confusion.

"I'm going to be teaching you embroidery today! It's not quite sewing, but I thought this might be fun for you to learn," He explained. He handed you a piece of canvas. "You put this in between the hoop- it comes apart into two pieces, watch-" He began to explain the mechanics of it to you, helping set it up. Jason grabbed his own embroidery hoop, along with needle and thread, and you tried to follow along to his instructions the best you could.

Jason wasn't the best teacher one could have. He was stern and unyielding, and seemed to forget that you didn't have as much experience as he did with a needle and thread. But his constant presence and instruction did wonders to distract you from yesterday- if only because you were busy being annoyed with him.

He sighed for what must have been the hundredth time since you started embroidering. "It's not as hard as you're making it out to be, Y/N. Its just a French knot."

"Stop saying that like I know what it is!" You argued back, puffing some hair out of your face. You tried again to make the knot, pulling the floss to the front of the fabric, and wrapping it around the needle a couple of times. Holding the needle and floss tightly, you tried to push the needle back through where the thread emerged. You went slowly, carefully, wanting to get it right this time. Maybe Jason was good at teaching, because his infuriating smugness pushed you to prove him wrong. The needle was halfway through the canvas, and as you pulled the rest of it through you accidentally pricked yourself.

"Ow!" You hissed, jumping in your seat. Your forefinger was bleeding. A drop landed on the canvas. "Oh, no! I ruined it," you pouted, before lighting up again. "Hey wait, I finished the knot!"

Jason looked at the canvas, frowning. "A _French_ knot, not just any knot. It looks...fine. Let me take a look at your finger." He put the embroidery hoop onto a table, scooting his chair closer to you. You groaned, as he offered you his hand.

"Give me a break, Jason. I've been trying to learn that stitch for the past 10 minutes. I bled for that knot-"

"_French knot._ Your hand, please," he asked again, motioning you. You sighed, placing your hand in his. He adjusted it, looking at your finger as he spoke. "You can't expect me to applaud you for making an adequate stitch. Embroider me a flower and I'll think about it, maybe. I should get you a thimble, seeing how you've managed to prick your finger already..." He muttered, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at the blood. When your finger didn't stop bleeding, he frowned, standing up.

"So what the diagnosis, doctor?" You joked, as he moved across the room, opening a cabinet. "invasive surgery maybe? Or is it too late for me?" you continued. You saw him smile as he grabbed a first aid kit.

"A band-aid will do for now," he replied, opening the kit up and grabbing one from the box. "Though I'm unsure of what to do about that smart mouth of yours," he added, sitting back down and removing the paper from the bandage. You laughed at his comment, offering your hand to him again.

As he applied the band-aid, you noticed there were a few drops of red on his shirt cuffs. Your eyebrows drew together in concern. "Oh, I didn't realize I got blood on your clothes," you said sympathetically. Jason looked at you in confusion, so you used your other hand to point at his sleeves. "You wore white, too...sorry about the blood." You repeated to him. He looked at his cuffs in surprise.

"Oh...no worries, Y/N. I didn't even notice until you pointed it out. I need to be more careful." He said, smiling at you fondly. "I'm glad you care about the aesthetics of my outfit, though," he added teasingly. You scoffed, your face heating slightly, but before you could respond he sighed and said, "I'll probably need to change my shirt, you don't mind if we pause this lesson for another time? There are a few other things I was hoping to accomplish today anyway." He asked you. You nodded, standing up.

He led you back to the workshop- though he didn't ask for you to come inside, thankfully- and as you leaned against the wall, waiting for Jason to come back out, you spotted something. The wall across from you shifted, a familiar blonde-haired doll stepping out of a secret passage. 

"Annabelle?" You said, happy to see her. She looked up, her mismatched eyes widening as she spotted you. She nodded in your direction quickly, before turning away and walking briskly down the hallway. 

"Wait- Annabelle wait! Where are you going?" You asked, bewildered. You chased after her, but once she realized you were following she stopped immediately, looking at you in fear. You stopped too, a few feet away from her, the terror in her eyes causing you to freeze up. "What's wrong?" You said immediately. Why was she looking at you like that? There was fear in her eyes, but her apprehension didn't seem to be _because_ of you, but _for_ you.

Annabelle surveyed the hallway quickly, before saying to you in a low, quiet voice, "You know we aren't supposed to talk to you, Y/N. Jason will throw a fit if he sees." She paused, opening her mouth and quickly closing it again. She shook her head and whispered, "I'm sorry. I really, really am." She turned and walked away from you, not giving you a chance to respond. Within moments she had disappeared down the maze of hallways. You watched her go, the cogs and wheels turning in your mind as you replayed what she had said over and over again.

The door to the workshop opened, and Jason stepped out, wearing a fresh shirt. It was a robin blue, instead of the white one he wore previous. He adjusted his cuffs, looking at you down the hallway. "Why are you all the way down there?" He asked pleasantly, "you weren't running off on me, where you?" He joked, and you shook your head immediately.

"I got distracted. Thought I saw something down there," you lied to him. He hummed in acknowledgement, motioning down the hallway, opposite direction you had seen Annabelle going. 

"Shall we?" he asked. You nodded and followed him to whatever else he had planned for the day.

Something in your mind clicked into place. Annabelle, along with the other dolls, were not allowed to talk to you. The same thing Maggie had told you yesterday. _"You know we aren't supposed to"_ She had said to you. Maggie must have told Annabelle about your conversation. Which means yesterday really, actually happened. Or at least, most of it did. You breathed a sigh of relief. There were still so many unanswered questions hanging in your mind, but this small consolation that yesterday happened, that at least part of it was real and true- maybe all of it was real too. Maybe you did see your parents. You glanced at Jason, observing him. He was still in the same good mood he had been in since morning. If yesterday happened, then how did you get back here? It was an unsolvable riddle. The fog of confusion you had been in all day had lessened some, but it was still very much there, swirling around you and casting you into darkness.

The room Jason took you to was a familiar one. The giant painting of kittens was no longer hanging on the wall, but against it. The painting still loomed over you, the cats' cute black eyes staring into the depths of your soul. 

"Uhm. Why are we in this place again? I mean, It's totally understandable that you want to show me it again. It's so...much, you really need to see it twice to be able to really grasp the majesty of it all-"

"I told you, I was going through a faze," Jason spoke loudly over you, his face and ears turning the same shade of pink that was on the walls. "I wanted to renovate it, I thought perhaps you'd enjoy helping me with the design?"

You smiled a little. It was nice to know that he actually cared about your input. You nodded. "Sounds good to me," you said. Jason smiled back, genuine and happy. You both quickly got to work, helping him move furniture from the room (along with that awful painting). While you helped to reorganize everything, he began to discuss his plans for the room, allowing you to interrupt and suggest things. He decided he wanted to repaint the walls a different color- the pink wasn't bad, Jason actually seemed loath to paint over it, but he wanted to remove any reminder of what it had been before. The room was going to be purple now, the curtains changed to a deep blue, and a dark leather sofa and brown desk were to be added.

The details agreed upon by both of you, you rolled up your sleeves and got to work repainting the room. You poured some more primer onto the tray, grabbing your paint roller and moving it up and down the wall, watching the pale pink disappear behind a fresh coat of paint. It was tedious, but fun and almost relaxing. You looked over to Jason, who was at the other side of the wall. His sleeves were rolled up, and he had fixed his long hair into a kind of half-ponytail to keep it out of his face while he worked. There was a bit of paint on his forehead, and more across his arms. You watched him work for a moment watching how his muscles flexed as he moved the paint roller across the wall. He glanced over to you, quirking an eyebrow. 

"What are you doing?" he asked you. You realized you had stopped painting in favor of watching him. 

You blushed furiously, adding more paint onto your roller as you tried to avoid eye contact. "You have paint on your face," you said, as if that explained it. He nodded, continuing to paint. He didn't look like he believed you, but thankfully didn't say anything, a slight smirk on his face.

About an hour passed, and both of you took a short break. He handed you a water bottle and you took it happily, chugging it. Renovating the room had distracted you for a while, but while painting you couldn't stop thinking about your conversation with Annabelle. Hesitantly, you spoke to Jason, trying to keep your tone casual.

"It's weird, I've barely seen any of the dolls today," you said, trying to gauge his reaction. "Usually there's always a few of them around."

His expression was neutral as he said, "that's a good thing. The dolls aren't supposed appear in front of company unless I say otherwise."

That was the same thing Maggie and Annabelle had told you. "But, I've met and talked to them before. Its not like anything's changed," you pressed on.

"It doesn't matter. They shouldn't have been talking to you in the first place." He said, his face still calm. You stuttered, trying to find the words to argue with him.

"But I have, and maybe that wasn't supposed to happen but it did. Isn't weird to try and hide them away now? Its not like I'm going to forget they exist."

"Well maybe you _should._" Jason snapped at you, before catching himself and taking a deep breath. "I don't know why it matters to you so much." He sighed, getting up to grab a paint can.

Your heart twisted up in anger. Without thinking, you snapped back at him. "Are you joking? They're my _friends_, Jason! The fact that you refuse to admit that is insane! Taking away the things I love isn't going to make me love you more!"

There was a pause, as you realized what you had done. You covered your mouth with a hand, looking at Jason for his reaction as you waited in silent terror.

Jason looked stunned and bewildered, completely thrown off by what you had said. He stared at you, mouth agape, trying to process what had happened. Eventually, in a slow and measured voice, he said, "Y/N, this is very disconcerting behavior. Are you coming down with a fever?" He came over to you, reaching a hand out to lay against your forehead.

Something in you wanted to get angry again, to slap his hand away and tell him you meant every word you said. But a more rational part of you recognized this for what it was- a way out of the terrible mistake you had made by yelling at him. So you let the anger simmer instead, pushing it down. 

You took a breath and nodded. "Maybe," you lied. "I haven't felt that well since I woke up." You couldn't believe he would just wave all of your concerns and feelings away so quickly. He nodded back sympathetically.

"You should have mentioned something sooner, dear. Go back to your room, I'm going to finish up here. Get some rest, maybe then these silly thoughts of yours will go away, hm?" His voice was light, but his eyes were serious. There was a strangeness in this interaction, Jason was clearly lying, both to himself and to you, offering a chance to let this outburst slide without punishment. Both of you knew the other was lying, and both of you did it anyway, because saying the truth would be devastating for both of you. So you lied back.

You grit your teeth and nodded again. "Hopefully they will. I guess I'll see you later?" You said, and he nodded, smiling gently, pleased to see your compliance. You left the room and walked down the hall slowly. After a minute or two, you glanced around. Seeing no one, you took off running, towards Jason's workshop.

You were done walking eggshells around Jason. You had to know. You had to see your parents. 

You had to get away.

Jason's workshop wasn't far away, especially with you running there. You swung open the door and slammed it behind you, running to the blue door and thinking, _home, home, home_ as you grabbed the handle and went through. Your bedroom was as you remembered it, but you didn't focus on that as you raced downstairs. Would they be at the kitchen table, hunched over and quiet like you swore you had seen before? 

They weren't there. You paused, thinking back to the last time you saw them. Or at least, the last time you thought you saw them. You went back upstairs, heading over to your parents room this time, opening their bedroom door. _Please be in there,_ you thought, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes._ I just want to see them again, please, please be in there._

Oh, how you regretted that thought.

There was so much blood. Dark and dried against the carpet, against the sheets, dampening the pillows and soaking through the mattress. Your parents bodies were torn and mangled, flesh and bone twisting around each other like a maypole. They were nearly unrecognizable. Their bodies were still on the bed, their skeletons still sleeping like the lovers of Pompeii, an empty space between them where you had been only yesterday. 

Tears blurred your vision, which was fine, because you didn't want to see the grotesque image in front of you anymore. You closed your eyes, letting sobs of grief escape you. A thousand thoughts streamed through your brain but you couldn't hold onto a single one, unable to think clearly as you held yourself, trying to understand. Confusion and shock and grief took hold, taking your breath away.

A hand rested itself comfortingly on your shoulder. "It's such a shame, isn't it?" said a familiar voice. You gasped, pivoting to see Jason, dressed in a black overcoat and top hat, his hand warm and his eyes soft with green light. He dressed up for this. Like it was some special occasion. Your breath shuddered, stepping away from him, further into your parents room. The carpet squelched underneath your feet as you backed up. You tried to ignore the thought of your parents blood soaking your shoes, horrified and angry as you spoke to Jason.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You spat, trying to sound vicious, but the fear and pain in your voice melted away your chances of appearing intimidating. Jason's eyes widened in mock surprise as he delicately placed a hand to his chest. 

"Why, I'm just here to support my _dearest friend_ in their time of grief. Is that so wrong of me?" he said dryly. 

"You did this, didn't you? I don't even know why I'm asking, of course you did! You horrible, self-centered, asshole! You murdered my parents! You killed-" your voice cracked, and you stopped talking as your words dissolved into sobs. "Why?" you said eventually, in between sobs. "Why did you hurt them?"

Jason's eyes narrowed as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Don't act so tortured, Y/N. It not like I initially planned to kill them. If anything, this is your fault for running away all the time like a spoiled brat."

You looked up at him, shocked and disgusted. "Are you joking? You KILLED my mom and dad!" You shouted at him, as if yelling would get the words through his skull. Jason tutted, shaking his head. 

"Y/N, I know how much your parents mean to you. That's why I didn't kill them at first. I thought maybe you would be satisfied knowing they were safe and healthy- who knows, maybe one day I might have let you see them again, but they weren't what was important." Jason began to explain. He gestured empathetically to himself. "What should have been important to you was _me._ But obviously you were too obsessed with your own life, and came back." Jason rolled his eyes in annoyance. You were too confused and upset to interrupt, only able to think about how utterly insane his logic was.

Jason continued. "When I realized you had run away from my factory, back to your own little life, I realized that you were too caught up thinking about your previous pathetic life to focus on what truly mattered." Jason pointed to himself again. "So, in order for you to love me fully, I had to cut out whatever else was the subject of your affections."

You struggled to talk, still drowning in a sea of grief. "You thought I loved my parents too much to love you," you said, no emotion in your tone. 

"It was the only logical conclusion," Jason said, his expression turning sympathetic as he looked at you, his eyes still green. "It's such a shame, " he repeated, "That you kept coming back here. If you had never left the first time, I would have never killed them. I suppose it was worth it to you?" He came forward, putting his hand underneath your chin. You couldn't stop crying. 

"I didn't expect you to leave again," Jason said, almost apologetically. Not that he would ever apologize to you, not even now, not even for this. "I allowed you one last day with your parents. You were supposed to move on, maybe consider it a dream. You could have lived in blissful ignorance, Y/N. Your last memory of your parents could have been a happy one. But now you have this," he said lowly, his grip on your chin grew firm as he forced your head to turn and look at your parent's mutilated, decaying forms. You struggled to look away, closing your eyes and grabbing his arm, trying to break away. "You just had to keep running away, didn't you? Like a spoiled child, trying to leave every time I told you something you didn't want to hear." Jason hissed.

"Please stop, I don't want to be here anymore- Jason please," You begged. The room smelled like death. You could hear the buzzing of flies near your parents' corpses.

"Do you blame the gun or the bullet for a murder, Y/N?" Jason continued, over your pleading. "I may have ended their lives, but you pulled the trigger." 

"I want to go home," you cried. Something in your brain reminded you that this was home, but it didn't feel like it anymore. 

Jason leaned close, his breath hot on your ear. His voice was soft. "It's ok, Y/N. I don't blame you for killing them. We always hurt the ones we love. Things will be easier now, I promise."

**Author's Note:**

> I have this series up on a few other sites, and while I'm not a huge fan of X-Readers, I really enjoy what I've written. I hope y'all feel the same way! The first few chapters are on the shorter side, hope you don't mind!


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